Just when I thought I was prepared for anything
by bookworm59
Summary: I'm used to people looking at me a certain way. Disgust, anger, revulsion-it's always the same. But things are changing. People are looking at me differently. Especially the people who I'd least expect. Rubbish summary but R&R peeps
1. Huh

_Jason_

The guy passed me the keys to the tiny apartment, nose wrinkled slightly. _Do I really smell that much? _I asked myself, as the man backed away-the wad of money I'd gave him shoved in his back pocket. A part of me wanted to go over and punch him, another wanted to punch that part of me. I decided on a no punching rule from here on. _This is supposed to be a fresh start_, the reasonable part of me chided. Tsk. Smart ass.

I ventured into the tiny bungalow, surprised when I realised it wasn't that bad-for a seedy apartment on the backstreets of Morganville that is. I dumped my pitiful mound of possessions in the middle of what I presumed was the living room and ambled around the other three rooms. It was basic, boring, but better than most other places I've stayed at over the past few months. Some of those places-_shudder_-I don't even wanna think about it. Let's just say be afraid-be very afraid. And yes d-heads this is Jason Rosser the x-pretend-murderer. One room with a mattress and a few thread bare sheets-another with a sink, a shower, a toilet and a water-stained mirror. A mini-fridge, a few woodworm ridden cupboards and a microwave in what I _think_ was supposed to be a kitchen. Not bad at all.

_What to do first_, I thought as I ran my fingers through my black hair, which left and oily residue on my fingers. Deciding that a shower was a main priority, I stripped down and used the rather mouldy looking bar soap to wash my hair and body. The water was cold-but I haven't had a hot shower for more than a year, I think I can handle it for a little while longer. I slung a towel around my waste and then put a razor, some shaving cream and some scissors around the sink and looked in the mirror for the first time since getting here. I had filled out a little over the past month (maybe because I had more than rats to eat-if you're wondering where all the money for food and an apartment was coming from, let's just say when I used to work for Oliver he didn't keep very good care of his credit card. Or any of them for that matter) and I was less wiry and more muscular than before. My wet hair no longer held a trace of grease. I picked up the scissors and lifted them to my shoulder length hair. As I did so, I couldn't help but look at the shiny scar tissue on my wrists. I glanced at the razor sitting on the sinks edge-but I quickly brushed away that thought. _A fresh start_, reasonable me chided more firmly. _Well, something's you can't erase_, I thought grimly staring at my heavily scarred wrists.

I shook my self, as though to shake off the bad memories, and started cutting my hair. _Snip, snip, snip._ With every piece of hair I cut off I told myself it was a part of who I used to be. _Snip, snip, snip, snip. _It was every memory of the people I'd watched scream for me while I stood and did nothing. _Snip, snip, snip, snip, snip. _I cut my hair until it was chin length, and yes it was choppy and messy, but it was a darn sight better than it was before. I lathered the lower part of my face in shaving cream and shaved until my chin was almost smooth (cheap disposable razors don't do the best job) and slid into a faded black t-shirt and newly bought light blue denim jeans. Then I laced up black converses (Oliver _really_ doesn't have a budget on credit cards) and headed off to common grounds. I looked so different now that no one would look twice in my direction. Well, that was the theory.

What I wasn't prepared for was my sister in all her gothic glory working the till. A burst of memories hit me. Brandon going towards her, fangs extended, while she whimpered in a corner. A burst of white hot pain as I dragged a knife along my wrist. Brandon slithering towards me and licking the thin line of blood off my wrist while Eve screamed for him to stop. Her face crumpled with fear as something white flashed out and backhanded her into the wall. Her racoon eyes wide hatred as I stabbed Shane. Ever memory was a fresh slap in the face, but I swallowed and stepped into the little coffee shop despite the feelings churning inside of me. Slowly I walked up to the checkout and waited to be served.

"What can I get you?" she asked tapping her black fingernails on the desk and clicking the bar in her tongue against her teeth.

"Black coffee and half a dozen chocolate glazed donuts please." For half a second she looked up as though she'd heard a ghost, but after studding my face thoroughly she shook her head and bustled around getting my order. When she dumped it in front of me I looked up, met eyes with her and she gasped. My eyes, her eyes, were the biggest give away to who I was.

"Jason." She breathed removing her apron and walking silently to a free table-oblivious to the threats from a _very _pissed off Oliver. I picked up my order and sat down at the table with her, where she was adorned with a haunted expression. "Six months. Six months you've been gone. Not a peep. Not a 'Hi Eve just thought I'd tell you not to worry 'cos I'm alive ok?'. Nothing."

"I needed a fresh start. Did you honestly miss your psychopath brother?"

"Yes!" she said in outrage, slamming the table so hard some of my coffee spilt "You're the only family I have."

"What about Mom?" _that's right, good job Jason, make her even more mad. Excellent plan_. Sure enough when I looked up her eyes were shimmering with fury.

"What the woman who dumped me out on my ass because I wouldn't shack up with Brandon? Because wouldn't let him fang me? Yeah, crazy as it sounds my psychopath pretend-murder brother is the best family I've got." And then without warning she closed me in a hug. I squirmed for a little patted her back awkwardly until she released me and went back to work.

The little bell rang as the door swung open and I looked up over the brim of my coffee cup. There stood Monica Morrell. I'd love to hate her, but she's so god-damn hot. Today she was wearing an almost illegal, skin tight pink dress-showing plenty of perfectly bronzed skin. The wind swirled around her and only gravity was keeping her dress down. To be honest, I routed for the wind. She met eyes with me and I saw something in her face that wasn't revulsion or disgust or distaste. No, it was something that looked a hell of a lot like attraction.

And then she winked at me.

And just when I thought I was prepared for anything.


	2. Encounters

_Monica_

The bell rang as I waltzed into common grounds and I felt the familiar feeling of every eye settling on me. I scanned the room, checking who had looked up to see me enter and I felt the weight of another pair of eyes on me. He was looking over the brim or his steaming coffee cup and devouring every inch of skin I was showing with his eyes. His choppy fringe fell just above his eyes, which were the colour of his coffee. His black hair fell to his jawline and clung to the hollows of his cheekbones. He was slightly skinnier than most guys I'd go for, but I liked his lean figure and the way his t shirt was just slightly snug-showing his small muscles. He continued to stare at me and I winked. He looked shocked the flirtatious wink and he hastily shoved a chocolate glazed donut in his mouth.

Satisfied with my effect on him, I sashayed to the till where that fashion-disaster-zombie-chick was working. Ugh. Freak. She was busy making someone's order, so I had to wait for her to clomp on over to me in those ridiculous patent shoes. _I_ was wearing silver stilettos that probably cost more than her months' pay-check. Another minute passed. Flipping my waist length brunette hair over my shoulder I called "Heello? Freak? I've been waiting, like, twenty minutes. Are you incompetent?"

"Wow Monica. I thought even you knew how to tell the time, but I must have been mistaken. And might I add that today you've added new meaning to the word 'slut', a feat you've been struggling with for years. Bravo. What can I get for you today then? Some Kleenex to pad out that bra that's about two cup sizes too big?"

"Just the usual." I said ignoring her quips. She nodded and bustled off leaving me time to assess the disaster that was her outfit. Her top was this weird net stuff with a huge red skull on the front that went over a black cami. I shuddered as I looked at her skirt, which looked like it had only just won in a fight with a shredder. Shaking my head, I picked up my cup that Eve had just dumped in front of me and flounced over to where good-looking-stranger was sitting. Without asking, I sat down in the remaining chair across from him and sipped my steaming mug. And nearly gagged. Full fat milk! Seriously! How hard is it to get _one _order right? Considering it for a moment, I decided that the bitch had done this on purpose. I shot a glare in her direction and she mouthed an 'is something wrong?' with fake innocence.

I abandoned my ruined coffee and turned my attention to the guy across from me.

"What's your name, stranger?" I asked dipping my finger in his coffee and sucking it clean seductively.

"Would you mind getting off my table? I want some alone time." I was shocked. This had _never _happened before. Guys would say a little 'hallelujah' if _they _were worthy of getting to sit with _me._ Well, most guys did.

"Yes I would mind." I said smiling sweetly.

"Ok, when I say 'I want alone time' it's me trying to be polite by not saying 'I don't wanna sit with you, bitch." I felt my flawless mouth fall into a perfect 'o' as he spoke. Oblivious to my astonishment, he stood up said 'it's been nice chatting with you' and walked off to the one toilet in the back of the café. Oh no, he is not just walking away as though I have no effect on him. I followed him silently all the way to the toilet, jamming my foot in the door way when he tried to close it.

"Hello again."


	3. War inside my head

_Jason_

Sighing I stood up from the table and walked to the back of common grounds, my heading a little unisex toilet. Just as I swung round to shut the door, a strappy silver stiletto appeared in the doorway, stopping me from shutting it. Clenching my jaw I looked up into the face of the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen.

"Hello you." She said slipping beside me in the toilet. "It's very rude to walk away from a girl that you're attracted to." She said, pouting. Where does she get these things from-not the attracted part cos I sure as hell was- but the lines? It's very rude to walk away from a girl that you're attracted to? How does she come up with these things?

Packing as much venom into my voice as possible I said "why would I be attracted to you? You're a murderer." Ok guys, it's not being hypocritical if you never actually killed someone.

"Murderer? I don't know what your-"

"Alyssa Collins." I don't know where that came from, but the second it was out of my mouth I felt my anger over what she'd done to the Collins family bubble up inside of me. She looked as though I'd slapped her. She put her back against the wall and slowly slid down it, her eyes closed. When she hit the floor she hunched forward and braced her hands on her knees. For half a second I thought she was silently laughing to herself but she was _crying._

I'd made _Monica Morrell _cry. Holy shit.

"I got to the house with the lighter in hand. I was so angry because Shane had rejected me I wasn't seeing clearly. When I got inside I went into the living room and I was about to light the curtains when I realised what I was doing. I stopped and turned around. And there he was. Frank Collins. With this deranged look. 'Do it.' he said to me 'Do it.' He pulled out this Swiss army knife and said 'Do it. Now.' I asked why and he told me that is someone died Amelie would let them out of town. He said if I told anyone he'd-he'd kill me." she began to sob-shoulders shaking uncontrollably. "He made me swear. Gave me a reminder too." She lowered the stretchy fabric of her dress and just over where her heart should be was a tiny X made out of scar tissue. "Cross your heart and hope to die would become painfully realistic if I told, he said." She sobbed harder, tears leaving flesh coloured tracks in her foundation.

Girls insulting me, I can deal with. Girls struggling away from me, I could deal with. Monica Morrell crying? Not so much.

I pulled her to her feet and she collapsed on me, bawling into my shoulder. I rubbed her back in soothing (I hope) circles and shhh-ed her until her tears dissolved into half-hearted hiccups. She pulled away slightly and looked up at me through her thick eyelashes. She looked younger. More vulnerable. Then her expression took on an edge.

I barely had time to register what was happening before she flattened me against the wall, pulled herself flush against me and crushed her mouth to mine.

A war started in my head.

_Kiss her back moron!_

_She'll only get bored of you in two seconds!_

_Who cares?_

_You _will _in time_

_Live in the moment!_

_Shut up!_

_YOU!_

As her long leg skimmed up my side, the former voice (more commonly known as hormones) won the battle. I grabbed her thigh and kissed her fiercely, my other hand skimming up her side, thumb brushing the curve of her breast. This went on for several minutes until she pulled away, wearing a slight smile. Slowly she raised her hand to my face and used her thumb to wipe lipstick off my face.

"Now will you tell me your name, pretty boy?"

Full on grinning, I said "Jason Rosser, how do you do?"

She almost fell over.


	4. Heart of stone

_Monica_

Oh.

My.

God.

I'd just made out with Jason Rosser.

_Jason Rosser!_

_JASON ROSSER?_

…and I'd liked it?

He looked so different! In all of my memories- he'd had long black straggly hair and he'd _stunk! _He'd always have this crazy look in his eye, like he was stoned. How did he look so…..hot now?

I'd just cried into his shoulder and felt safe, for a change. The tiny part of me that wasn't shallow and self-absorbed (stop laughing, I said tiny part) was telling me that it shouldn't matter what he used to be like or what everyone would think of me…..no. It shouldn't-doesn't-matter what everyone else thinks, does it? If I'm happy then who cares what they think?

The shallow part of my mind (the main part of my mind) was telling me that it _does _matter and that one wrong move with this guy could destroy the reputation you've been building up for years. I told myself it didn't matter.

"Uh, Monica? You've been sat there for like five minutes." I looked up into Jason's face and he was smirking slightly, making my heart beat erratically.

_Monica! Since _when _do guys have this kind of effect on you? _Shallow mind frame demanded.

_Since she realised reputation isn't everything…..so like two minutes ago. _Less shallow mind frame whispered.

I stood up, stared at his newly hotty-fied face for half a second, before walking over and kissing him. His eyes widened considerably before returning the kiss just as passionately.

Our tongues touched, and I felt like my body was on fire with the amount of emotions running through me. In a spur of the moment I grabbed his shirt and pulled him flush against me, until there was not an inch of air left between us.

"Oh _hell _no!" someone yelled, making us instinctively break apart. I looked over to the source of the disturbance and there was zombie chick, her mouth wide open and a multi pack of toilet rolls in her arms.

"Excuse me, we're kind of busy here." I said sighing and putting one hand on my hip. But she wasn't even glancing in my direction. Her eyes were only for Jason. _Oh my god! They're brother and sister! _I thought in a burst of clarity. How the hell did I forget that?

"So Brother, you only have time for a ten second conversation with me but you have time to have a nice tongue wrestling match with Monica Morrell?" he looked down at the floor, attempting to avoid his sisters glare.

She growled in the back of her throat and grabbed fistfuls of her hair as though to tear it out.

"Fine. Do whatever you want." She turned to me fury ablaze in her eyes. "I don't know what the situation is here, but I sincerely hope that one day you realise how dissatisfying it is to go through guy after guy without feeling anything what so ever. Because if you don't realise this then you will never have anything close to happiness, or fulfilment. I am in love and it may not be perfect but it is the greatest feeling I have ever had. Life is pointless without it. And let me ask you this Monica. Are you happy? Are you really and truly happy? Does it give you a warm glow to use your looks to get people to do what you want? Does it give you a little secret smile when you think about all the one night stands that meant nothing?" She then dumped the toilet papers on the floor and stormed out.

I was so shocked it felt like my tongue had been cut out. What do you say to that? Not a single snide comment or cruel insult came to mind. Every word she spoke was true. Well not every word. She said I never felt anything, but today with Jason I had felt something. A lot actually. But no one would believe me, even if I swore to it. I was Monica Morrell heart of stone. I used to relish at the thought of that title. Now I wasn't so sure.


End file.
